WordPress just warned me that they have a new editor planned. WHY? I just now figured out this one and it’s been . . . a while.
Speaking of WordPress, long ago in blogland we used to pass around these blog awards and I would collect them obsessively and call them “blog bling”. I also considered stealing a certain one, since all you have to do – technically – is copy / paste it off a more fortunate person’s blog. That would be the Freshly Pressed award that I eventually got by insulting the editors of WordPress in a post. There’s a bit more to it than that, but no matter now since it is passe because they have Editor’s Choice or something like that. I don’t know much about it since I don’t have a lot of blog friends competing for it. So big deal, cause this award’s name is not nearly as stupid, (I do not think of a mammogram when I hear it) so I reject it, unless some editor wants to give it to me. I’m RIGHT HERE guys, and you know WordPress I noticed when you never responded to my suggestion that my booger post be given an award. Do you not read your tweets? I find this unprofessional, WordPress.
I was getting somewhere, oh yeah, I was given the Liebster award by blogger anupturnedsoul. I forget who or what a Liebster is, but this one award is super cool because it asks lots of bizarre questions and I love answering questions that concern myself. (You should check her blog out cause she likes me, which makes her amazing and crap.) So here goes!
What is a question? What does asking questions mean to you?
A question about a question? It’s like an English major wrote this. Or a philosophy one, since it was taken from The Philosopher’s Magazine.
What is a question? That’s easy. A question is the answer on the game show Jeopardy. What does asking questions mean to me? Asking questions is a great way to learn something new and / or annoy another person. Like when I asked this nun in my college class repeated stupid questions like “Do you have more than one color of habit, like for special occasions?” She was very patient.
What is an answer? What does an answer mean to you? How far will you go to get an answer?
Haha, I did not see this one coming. Naturally an answer is a question on Jeopardy, which I almost never get right. Like who cares where Monaco is, it’s like the size of Dallas or something. An answer means someone has actually solved something, like say the Trump investigation. There are no more answers, only questions like WHYYYYYY? How far will I go for an answer? Wikipedia. See above for question definition.
What would you do first in this situation?
Each option has an interpretation attached to it which you will find by clicking over to : What Would You Do First in This Situation? The Result Can Reveal a Lot About You – there are additional questions asked by the site which are: How accurately do these characteristics describe your personality? Do you agree or disagree with all the descriptions?
This one annoyed me, because how can it be a personality test when most answers just mean you’re kinda dumb? If you do anything besides go to the tea kettle (does anyone still have one of these?) you are risking a fire. The baby’s fine in the crib another minute, the dog has already ruined your furniture, and the corded phone (we still had one of those until recently) call is probably a telemarketer cause those are the only people who call on a home phone.
But these guys say “If you’ve chosen the kettle, it can mean that you’re a passionate and rather quick-tempered person. You make decisions quickly without doubts, and nothing will stop you from achieving your goal. You can quickly get bored with monotony. You care about your safety and don’t like surprises. It’s easier for you to follow a clearly defined plan without unexpected twists and turns.”
Yeah, I care about safety, like not having the surprise of a fire, though you know not having things on fire can be rather monotonous so maybe I should have let the kettle go after all. Cause I cannot decisions to save my life, which is why maybe I should have chosen the baby because then I’m a calm and resourceful person who sacrifices myself for others (like in a fire) and enjoys quiet evenings with my family which I should note does not include a baby. Yet if you pick the baby up first and then go to the kettle and the dog, you burn the baby and get its head chewed off by the dog. I’m assuming you’d still be holding the baby since it’s not going to just get calmed in its crib fast enough for you to escape the fire, the rabid dog, or that relentless ringing.
It’s possible I have overthought this question. Nah! Okay so if I choose the dog it means I’m a material girl who doesn’t like a mess, and if I choose the phone I’m a great communicator who can multitask (not likely with a corded phone) in which case why didn’t I grab the dog, the baby, the kettle, and then answer the phone? The answers have no questions and the questions no answers and we’re right back to question one!
How would you convince me that you are real and not in my dreams? (borrowed from Philosophy Cambridge Interview Questions)
I’m not real. This is a dream. Or IS IT?
What is your favorite word? (Q borrowed from English Cambridge Interview Questions) Why is it your favorite word?
Once upon a time, whence I covered 50 Shades of Crap, my blog’s top search word for the year according to Google was “crack whore”. This is not my favorite word, though, nor is crap, no matter how many times I use it. It’s a tough choice, but I think my favorite word is “stabby”, as in “I feel stabby today”. It may not be in the Oxford English Dictionary yet, but if they added “hangry” I think they can add “stabby.”
Also, since this is borrowed from interview questions, what kind of interview asks what your favorite word is? Are they wondering if you will blurt out “stabby” like I just did, so they know you’re a serial killer and can casually mark through your name on their list? I’m so curious.
What does the following illustrated story mean to you? If you’re not sure – What was the first thought which popped into your mind about it?
Oh, wise Tarzan, er Tanzan, teach me more about how to avoid sexual harassment lawsuits! I mean, the first thought that popped into my head was “Oh like that monk is so great.” cause that’s how my mind works. Actually, though, I think it’s trying to say that the student was worrying about the teacher mucking up his mind cause his was mucked up – ie get the two-by-four out of your eye before you pick at mine, you brat. I count people who go through youth books line by line looking for subversive material among these.
Which god or goddess from mythology would you be and why? (Q borrowed from a comment on anupturnedsoul’s blog – Two Narcissists in a Relationship? – a personal story)
Ooh, I know this one! Nemesis. She’s not as well known as say, Zeus, but I like her cause she’s the Greek goddess of revenge. Her job is to exact revenge for “hubris” against the gods, or in valley girl speak “She like thinks she is like SO GOOD.” Some people say you shouldn’t want revenge and you should live well, blah blah, but I think that’s because they couldn’t get away with it and besides, if I was Nemesis, this would be my job. Like, nothin’ personal. Hey, did you just run over your neighbor’s cat and think nothing of it cause you are so special with your corvette? Sorry, but Whiskers is going to haunt you for the rest of your life, buddy. Turn around – Whiskers. Go to bed – Whiskers. Take home a date – Whiskers on the couch waiting with his red, creepy eyes.
Not that I’ve though much about this.
If you could be someone else, real or fictional, for a day, who would you be and why? What would you learn from being them? (Q inspired by Fandango’s Provocative Question #1)
Last question, you guys! I would be Donald Trump. No wait, hear me out! I would grab my buddy Mike Pence and we would travel to Antarctica to visit with the penguins and those Eskimo guys. We’d miss the plane back – I’d only have to tell Mike that there was a woman on there if he protested. Then I’d go back to being me, and Donald and Mike would learn to live with the Indigenous peoples until they kick them out within days and then they would learn to live with penguins. Sorry, Donald, you don’t always get to be in the middle. You have to share warmth like all the other Emperor penguins. And outside people would be all “Yay!” until we get someone else stupid in office. What would I learn? In Trump’s brain, I’d probably have lost information more than gained it. I am willing to take the risk for my country.
Okay, so that’s the end I promise! Anyone still with me? I am supposed to ask eight questions of someone else, but my brain is fuzzy. I don’t know eight bloggers, but anyone reading I would LOVE to see answer these questions cause they are so fun. I’m going to check out anupturnedsoul’s other nominees and their answers.
Stay tuned as I explore the many bizarre versions of Mary Freakin’ Poppins!
The Bling Closet
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Alice who went around begging for blog bling. She was not subtle about it. Nope, she wrote several posts on it, in fact. She whined on people’s blogs when she wasn’t selected. Whining turns out to be a very effective bargaining tool, for soon she was rolling in bling which she put in her bling closet labeled Unbirthday Presents.
Then Alice got busy. She had things to do. Like avoid housework and play video games and insult stupid books and hack up mounds of mucus. Cool stuff you guys just wouldn’t understand. So she didn’t write a thank you post. She meant to, but life, you know, she was trying to find one and that takes TIME people.
So there’s this backlog, and though she tried to keep records, she has none, except the kind that go round, round, baby, right round, like a record baby, right round, round round. What’s a lazy girl to do? Write one post to try to cover her rear end, that’s what she’s to do. And here it is, in all its glory!
Here’s a couple of awards I just got, so I actually remember them. They were given to me by another Alice from a parallel universe blog. First up is awesomesauce because it has a dragon. Check it.
Next, is one that just showed up and has been floating around the blogosphere. It’s the We Are Family award, and I get to be part of this messed up little family. Woot!
And there were others, others that . . . crap I forgot. I think one had Sunshine in it, because I’m just full of it. Sunshine, that is. And . . . um, others, just too many to mention! Yes, that’s it!
The dragon award said to give out facts about yourself. I’ve already done that so much I’m sure most people want me to take some of those facts back. TMI Alice, is something I have heard, possibly, once or twice. So I’ll make up some stuff about me.
- In high school, I was a cheerleader, on account of all my pep.
- I used to have a talking dog named Cheeto, but he kept giving out my passwords to people so I had my dragon eat him.
- I am really a princess, and as soon as Julie Andrews takes off my glasses, trims my eyebrows, and gives me a new dress and etiquette lessons, I am going to totally take the throne. And write a diary about it.
- All that bad stuff I did? It was not me. It was my evil robot twin, Ecila.
- I see dead people. In the funeral parlor. The funeral directors keep telling me to quit stalking them.
- My dad is Obi One Kenobi, so I might actually be a Jedi princess. Don’t tell Twindaddy. He has orders to destroy me.
- I do a LOT of drugs. I mean, a LOT.
So there you go. I have acknowledged awards I forgot, and some I didn’t (because I just got them like minutes before writing this post) and I made up some stuff about myself. Yes, even the last thing. I’m not stoned, just weird.
Thanks to all my peeps who are still out there, hopefully. In keeping with my laziness, I give my award to all of you, mwah, mwah! And also to all the spambots.
Bruthahs and Sistahs! I have HAD a revelation! It came down to me from the Heavens, and said “Clean up on aisle 6.” Wait, that was the loudspeaker. But it CAME to me that I was in ERROR, bruthahs and sistahs! I HAD gone down the wrong path, away from the light, to the dark, where the bulbs were burnt out and there WAS no WalMart.
That’s right. I had been led ASTRAY. No more did I blog for blog’s sake, no, no. It became all about the Washingtons, folks. The bling. The awards. The followers. The comments. And hits. Just one more hit. Hit me, hit me, hit . . . right, it was BAD, bruthas and sistahs.
But just when I was LOST came the revelation! I stepped back, friends, and said “WTF?” That’s right. I no longer knew who I was! Squirrel and Sad Pony considered doing an intervention, but Sad Pony said “What’s the use?” and Squirrel was too busy writing lurrve letters to Miss Four Eyes. It was up to ME to see the TRUTH. The truth that I was full of CRAP and that I was using the CAPS LOCK KEY way too much.
Because it’s not about the trappings of FAME, oh no, bruthahs and sistahs, for that does not last. The stickers of bling are shiny, so shiny, shinyshiny. But they are not what is eternal, no! It is your voice, and what you say, that matters! If you have followers, the followers will follow the blogger, not the bling! Because, really, folks, if they want the bling then they CAN break one of those commandments and STEAL the bling. They call it copy / paste. Not that I would do this, only thought I should, you know, point that out.
This is not to lessen your bling, bruthas and sistahs. We should be proud of bling, but not more than people! It is people that follow your blog. Well mostly. Sometimes it is spambots, but mostly it is people. People who leave comments saying “You’re cool” or “You suck” or “I thought I was going to find children’s toys here, not this sicko stuff you freak.” This is one good reason to write, for the comments, for the blogger pals.
But the MOST important lesson, bruthas and sistahs, and remember this came from ON HIGH in Wal-Mart, is to blog for yourself. If you don’t like doing it, why do it? As Thing One’s teacher once said, what, are they going to give you a cookie for being the best, the fastest, the funniest? I mean, once or twice or even a dozen times, maybe, but not every time. Most times, it has to be your passion. It has to be done for YOU first, because blogging is nothing if not inherently selfish, folks.
A great one once said, “Leave your bling, and follow me.” That one was Jesus. I’m not Jesus (I know, shock.) I’m just a blogger, and ya love me, or ya hate me, or ya don’t care. It’s up to you. But I had to preach it to ya, bruthahs and sistahs, that I have found my way back to the TRUTH, for whatever it’s worth. Though I still like it, I am leavin’ behind my want, my need, of the bling, the likes, hits, the comments, the followers, the trappin’s of fame. All that is left is Alice.
And Wonderland, of course. We’re all mad here.